


The Right Humiliated Prime Minister

by catmanu



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - Canadian 21st c.
Genre: Canadian Politics, Daddy Issues, Humiliation, Other, Public Humiliation, Shame, Sort Of, a Return to the Haunted Basement, gerry butts tm mention, jerking off, macdeau mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmanu/pseuds/catmanu
Summary: Not even a year into his second term as Prime Minister and Justin's involved in yet another avoidable-seeming corruption scandal.  Has he learned from the past?  Taken any advice?It's almost as if he's doing it on purpose...
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	The Right Humiliated Prime Minister

Justin’s phone vibrates once, then twice, waking him up.Gerry’s sent him another message.Oh, shit. More than one.

_-Shit, Justin. I can’t stop thinking. We’ve all given you advice. I came back to give you advice. Are you allergic to damage control?_

_-I’m sorry to be the one to say this but, is your heart still in being Canada’s champion anymore? It feels like you’re letting us down. Let’s touch base tomorrow._

Justin sighs. _Touch base_.He thinks of himself and Gerry, two hopeful students giving cops free hugs in Montreal.Who would have expected them to turn into greying men who said _touch base?_ He’s tempted to respond with something like that, but his body is starting to betray him. More specifically, his cock.  The traitor. “No,” he whispers, “don’t—” but it’s too late. He’s feeling the telltale signs of—of—

Ignoring Gerry for now, he Googles himself instead.He’d gone to sleep early, and apparently the 24-hour news cycle has had its way with him in his absence.Articles pop up that he hasn’t seen yet, their hyperlinks the blue siren’s call of uncharted cyberterrain.Wait, did that metaphor even make sense?Justin’s not sure.It sounded like something Manu would say, but with Manu you never had to doubt that something made sense.

In fairness to him, his blood feels like it’s leaving his brain at an alarmingly fast rate. _Death by erection,_ he thinks. _What a way to go…_ He glances at the headlines once again.It’s the kind of news that makes him slip two tissues into the pocket of his plaid pajama pants—they’re red and black, sort of Canadian and very cozy—and sneak out of the room, making sure Sophie stays fast asleep, avoiding the floorboards that needed repairing and that he would have had fixed already if he weren’t afraid of the Alberta voters bitching about _misuse of public funds.God, like renovating an old building is a sin?_

The thing about living in a place you lived in growing up—Being permanently stuck living in your parents’ basement, really—was that anything unsavory you did made you feel like you were sneaking around behind your mom and dad’s back. Or, well, Dad’s back, in his case.Justin doesn’t think he likes it.Doesn’t _think_ he likes it. He pauses a moment before opening the door to the basement staircase.He flashes back to a memory of a summer in his childhood—Dad standing at the door, putting on his jacket to go out to some event and watching Justin go down to the basement with _Dune_ tucked under his arm.On that actual day, he’d said goodbye to Justin before leaving, but in this strange, frozen moment punctuated by nothing but the grandfather clock in the hallway, Dad just stares at him.The sides of his mouth curl up. 

_Mon fils…tu es pathétique._

“C'mon, Dad.Fuck off for once.”The one good thing about partial hallucinations of Papa, Justin thinks, is that he can finally tell him to _fuck off_.“I’m just going to the basement.C’est mon pays maintenant, Papa.I can go to the basement in the middle of the night if I want.”

The clock suddenly rings out 2 AM, and Justin steps through the basement door and slams it shut.He’s alone again, and harder somehow.

He makes it to the couch in record time, works his pants off around his boner with some difficulty, and rolls his soft white t-shirt up around his waist.He runs his hand over his abs a little (they feel _nice_ —who wouldn’t?) as he looks at the first article. 

It’s CNN.The Americans just _love_ poking at him.As if they had a leg to stand on.But they see it— _everyone_ sees how deserving he is of it.“How Justin Trudeau's latest ethics scandal could spell the end of his career.” _They want me out.They want me out now, they can’t wait for me to be gone._ He moves his hand away from his abs and down to his cock.It’s so hot and swollen in his fist already, and he moves it up and down, thinking. _I’m so fucking terrible at leadership that they can’t wait to see me go.I only got reelected because Scheer is Trump Lite and Canada is too noble to go down that road._

Now, the BBC.“Trudeau admits 'mistake' while facing third ethics inquiry in office.”Nice and to the point, those Brits.He did have to do this, didn’t he?He’d had to admit his fuckup in front of his nation and respond to angry question after angry question from the members of Parliament, gloating in the comfort of their locked-down homes.He’d had to _admit_.His cock twitches in his fist as he remembers his voice of contrition, and he tries it out loud again.“I’m sorry, I’m sorry that I—”He cuts himself off by gasping for air; his fist feels so good and so tight around his cock that he has to.Nothing could possibly feel better than this, except maybe reading from a source much closer to home. 

According to Huffpost Canada, “Trudeau Doesn't Seem To Know 'Basic' Ethics Rules—” _No, I don’t.I don’t.I get up there and can’t say a word and can’t think of one thing to say to condemn Kim Jong-Un—the most basic fucking thing a leader could possibly do—and I can’t say a word and I don’t know anything.I’m a fuckup._ The tip of his cock is getting wet. _I’m a FUCKUP._

And then the Toronto Star: “After each ethics violation, Justin Trudeau says he learned his lesson. Then there’s another such incident.”Look at how they talk down to him.Even the American press doesn’t _talk down_ to their President.Insult him and call him crazy, sure, but that’s different—that’s still different—than treating him like he’s still a kid, Pierre Trudeau’s precocious firstborn son running around 24 Sussex with his Star Wars action figures.Well, he was precocious then.Now he’s Pierre Trudeau’s _pathetic_ 48 year-old firstborn son who might as well be running around Rideau Cottage with his Star Wars action figures.Then there’s another such incident. _God, I’m such a dumb fuckup._ He squeezes his cock, hard.Is it a punishment?He doesn’t like pain, after all.But in this moment—in this moment it feels amazing. 

The Toronto Sun has some wall-of-text op-ed about him.They call him ‘sophomoric.’ _“When he imagines himself (which in his narcissistic way must be several times a day),”_ they’ve written, _“he sees himself, breastplate gleaming in the sun, as our most ‘transparent and accountable’ prime minister, ever.”_ His cock slumps heavily toward his stomach as he moves his hand away for a moment to take a screenshot.They’re making a complete mockery of him, twisting the talking-down knife that the Star stabbed him with. _I’m Canada’s hero, aren’t I?I’m trying to do good, I’m trying to make us look good, and they’re making fun of me._

 _I deserve it I deserve it._ He’s panting so hard it’s as though he’s fucking another person—Manu, probably, Manu likes it rough—instead of his own fist. _I fuck up.Anything stupid I do, they catch me.They’ll never leave me alone because I deserve it._

He spits into his hand, which is disgusting and barbaric and all that but he’s probably going to set either his palm or his cock on fire if he doesn’t get a little lube In the mix, and he thinks about how he’s here, the _Prime Minister,_ in his second term of the gig, during a _global pandemic_ , and he’s here jerking off on a couch in his basement racking up the ethics violations and he doesn’t know _how_ it all happens—how he fucks up in the same way so often—he just lets Canada down time after time after time and then he has to go out and apologize to everyone—everyone he’s let down—apologizing for the whole world to view, stupid brainless arrogant evil Justin Trudeau— _I did this to our reputation, Papa, it was me, it was my fault—_ he’s leaking hard enough into his fist now that he won’t need to spit again.

His curls are getting sweaty.His well-cultivated pandemic beard is getting itchy.Maybe he should shave it off after this is over, and go back to the pretty, fresh-faced Justin from before all of this, but then they’d just write more articles about how he was trying to use his good looks (thanks!) to get away with things, and—

He pulls up an article from close to home again.Huffpost Canada.“Trudeau doesn’t seem to know ‘Basic’ Ethics Rules.”‘Basic,’ in quotes.This is how stupid this country he’s loved his whole life, from the Pacific to the wild North to the peace of the Maritimes, thinks he is.And they’re right, aren’t they?He can’t do anything right except legalize pot and please Canada's stoners.

“This is pathetic,” he says out loud.This is why he has to do this in the basement.He has a mantra, kind of.Is he allowed to say that anymore?God, is that cultural appropriation?Fuck, what a mess.“ _I’m_ pathetic,” he continues.He thinks he’s using his Apology Voice as he thrusts into his fist, his muscles throbbing and burning, his fingers sticky from the amount of precum leaking out of him now.“I’m pathetic.I’m a failure.I’m a failure, I’m a failure—”This isn’t heaven, this is something even better—and it flashes through his mind again, _Trudeau admits mistake—_ “I’m a failure,” and he’s so close that his free hand is clawing at the couch for support while his hips arch off the couch, grinding at the air, “I’m—a—!”

His mind is almost purely blank when he comes.These moments—when he’s jerked himself off to _this—_ are surely the closest a human being can come to pure ecstasy.With his eyes closed, he sees nothing, but feels _everything,_ including the sticky warmth splashing endlessly on his stomach.

 _You make such a mess, Justin, your beauty is so raw, so unbridled,_ he hears in a whisper in French straight out of France, and the thought smashes right into his orgasm and brings it to a stop.He _doesn’t_ want to think of _how beautiful_ Manu thinks he is right now.

But he really is a mess. _The same mess you’ve made of your time as PM_ , he tells himself, and his cock gives one last sad little twitch at that.He pulls the tissues from his pocket and wipes himself off.For how many more years, he wonders, will he be jerking off on this couch in some sort of shame?

That’ll all depend.As long as he doesn’t overdo it with the apologies, well.Everyone loves a pretty face, bearded or not.He could have many more years of this.And if he doesn’t?If he doesn’t make it through the 2023 elections? If he’s forced to resign beforehand?

Well.Sure, Papa will be rolling in his grave, but _think_ of all the material he’ll have.

He came so hard his heart’s still pounding away in his chest.Humiliation’s better cardio than his daily jogging route. _That’s how I stay in shape!_ he imagines joking at a future town hall in his town hall joking voice.He texts Gerry back, finally.

 _-Fuck, Gerry, you’re such a condescending pain in my ass sometimes, did you know that?_ Justin looks at this for a moment and then deletes it.He doesn’t want Gerry to leave him _again._ He starts over.

 _-Please don’t condescend to me,_ he writes. _I AM Canada’s champion._ His heartbeat is pounding pounding pounding away, making his hands shake around his iPhone.He’s everything _but_ that.He’s _pathetic._ That’s what he is.And it’s so good.No one, not even Manu— _especially_ not M. le Perfect himself—will ever understand how good it feels.

_My heart has never been more in it._

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: this fic was secretly a _looooong_ time in the making, hahaha. His latest drama gave me the motivation to write it! Hopefully some more Macdeau will follow; I've been slowly working on an idea.
> 
> All the articles mentioned in this fic are real! You too can follow the WE scandal if you so desire.


End file.
